Letting the year land

Fiona L Smith reflects on the body’s need for pause and how it transforms the way we close the year.

Images: Lichtmagnet - Pixabay

Text: Fiona L Smith

There is a moment towards the end of the year when there’s a pause. The rush of Christmas is over, and it’s not quite an ending or a beginning; just a quiet threshold where the world feels almost as though it’s holding its breath. Most of us rush past it and jump straight into the New Year with bubbles and fireworks, plans, resolutions, and lists of what we think we should change. But before we set off, there is real value in letting the old year land.

Listening to the body’s story

We often think of reflection as a mental activity - something we do with thoughts, memory, and a blank sheet of paper. But long before we arrive at the point of putting words to our experience, our bodies have been storing data: signals of stress and safety, the pace we lived at, the moments we pushed through exhaustion, the times we softened, the relationships that steadied or unsettled us, the moments of joy and despair. Some activities fed our sense of self and belonging. And there were moments when we felt overstretched, unseen, or discouraged.

Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio describes these accumulated emotional impressions as “somatic markers” - body-based signals that guide later decisions and shape how we interpret our experiences, often outside conscious awareness. We notice them as feelings, urges or procrastination, but they begin far deeper than thought.

This is why the end of the year can feel charged - or flat - in a way that’s difficult to name. Our experience this year isn’t just what happened; it’s also what our nervous system has had to hold. Many of us, especially those who live away from home, spend the year in states of constant adaptation. New environments, expectations, languages and systems stretch the body’s capacity in ways we may not fully recognise until we stop and listen.

Letting the year land begins with noticing what arises when we do pause. Not in a forced or analytical way, but with curiosity. What memories come forward first? Which images from the year still feel alive when you recall them? What moments lift your heart, and what returns with a tightening in the chest or a heaviness in the stomach? We remember stories, but the body shows us meanings.

Some things went well this year, even if your nervous system has been running so fast that you’ve hardly registered them. Many high-achieving internationals - especially women, and even more so, mothers - are so used to scanning and planning ahead for what needs managing that we skim past our own successes and growth. Offering a space to feel into what strengthened you completes stress cycles and signals to your system that your effort was worth it.

Perhaps you held a boundary, voiced your opinion, navigated a difficult transition, or chose rest instead of pushing. Maybe you made difficult decisions that moved you closer to the life you want or got the promotion you worked so hard for. If we don’t acknowledge these moments, the nervous system doesn’t fully receive the update that we have grown

“May the road rise to meet you; may your troubles be less and your blessings be more, and may the year ahead be full of joy and connection.”

Gathering lessons and letting go

There are also lessons to gather, but not in the ‘everything I did wrong’ voice of the inner critic. Instead, look for patterns. Where did you feel most like yourself? When did you feel out of alignment? When you recall certain moments or events, does your breath tighten? Did you stay when your body said go? Or remain silent when something in you desperately wanted to speak out? The body often answers before the mind: it can show us where we pushed too hard, where we abandoned ourselves, and where old protective habits resurfaced. This kind of learning is compassionate, recognising that every response was adaptive in the moment.

And then, there’s a courageous question: what are you ready to leave behind? Letting go isn’t a single decision; it’s a process. Is there a role you’re no longer willing to play, an expectation that has grown too heavy, or a story you’ve been telling about yourself that no longer fits? Letting the year land includes grieving what didn’t happen, the hopes that didn’t materialise or the dreams you postponed because life demanded too much. It can also mean celebrating what you forgot to acknowledge, and moving on because you’ve found the courage and support to do so.

As the year closes, there is an opportunity to quietly take measure. What genuinely supported me this year? What helped me feel connected, grounded or inspired? In what moments - and with whom - did I feel a sense of belonging? Often it is small things: a dance class, a walk by the sea, someone who saw you, a friendship that steadied you, or the moments when you listened to your body rather than pushing through.

In this space between years, allow yourself to stop reacting out of exhaustion, obligation, or habit, and choose from a place of clarity instead. Gather the threads of what mattered, notice what still resonates, and steady yourself, allowing your body to guide you into the year ahead.